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Some clarifications - 

Informant can only pass the name of a player inside the Octet doc excluding themselves to the GM to pass on to the Contact. 

Also, someone (Kas) asked me what's to stop the Informant from outing all the elims when they know they're about to die. The answer is that it's an insta-loss situation as Insider knows the identity of the Contact. 

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Sign-ups are closed! First cycle will be posted shortly. 

One final (hopefully) final clarification which I thought I had mentioned in the doc but hadn't - Insider flips as regular Constabulary. 

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OBSERVATION REPORT 01

 

XX-XX-XXXX

SUBJECT: MURMURATION

IN THE RECENT MONTHS, IT HAS BEEN OBSERVED THAT THERE HAS BEEN A MASSIVE INFLUX STARLINGS IN ELENDEL ARRIVING IN MURMURATIONS. THEY COME IN HUGE SWATHES, LIKE A SWARM OF LOCUSTS AND JUST DISAPPEAR INTO THE CITY NEVER TO BE FOUND AGAIN. SEARCH EFFORTS ARE FRUITLESS SO FAR. FURTHER MURMURATION SIGHTINGS HAVE NOT BEEN NOTICE. IT APPEARS LIKE EVERYONE WHO WOULD ARRIVE HAVE ARRIVED.

*

And off we go! Cycle 1 of QF70 has begun and will end on February 11th, 01:00 AM Let me know if you haven't received your GM PM. Please try to bold your votes and give retractions in green! Happy hunting!

Player List:

Spoiler
  1. @Aeoryi
  2. @RoyalBeeMage
  3. @Kasimir - Detective Kowalski
  4. @TheRavenHasLanded - Riven
  5. @Amanuensis - Maikul "Truthwatcher" McGee
  6. @Sart - Sam
  7. @Stick. - Stick
  8. @Faerie Braids Secretary-Constable Vivienne Bell
  9. @DrakeMarshall - Marshal Drake
  10. @neil the beguiled
  11. @JNV
  12. @Alvron - Ylath
Edited by |TJ|
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In memoriam. RIP sir. Thank you for everything you taught me.


I wore black to the funeral.

It wasn't rainin'. If it were, I guess the prof woulda approved of it. "Sympathetic background," he called it. But it wasn't the time of year for rain, and real life wasn't minded to be cooperative. Something it had in common with the criminals, I guess. I knew the Boss wouldn't be happy about this, what with the Octet and all that, but the way I figured, it was my leave and if he didn't like it, that was on him. Which was to say, I didn't really give a damn.

Maybe some of the kids there looked at me funny. But there were a bunch of people about as old as I was. Some of 'em even had grey in their hair, so I didn't feel too left out. Nice of 'em, really.

Maybe you'd say it's odd for me to be so torn up about this. 'Course, those years were some of the best of my life. I dream about 'em sometimes, when I'm not dreamin' about the bad ones: cold cases, cases when I'm too late to make a difference.

The way his shoes squeaked against the floor of the lecture hall. The way he seemed to notice the moment anyone at all was talkin' and swivelled and stared at the latest object of his wrath. The unmistakeable scent of aged paper. The whisper of pages turning and the scribbling of pens.

We never talked, near the end. I listened to some of the stories there, some of them talkin' about this and that he'd done, and nodded politely, and never said anythin' so no one asked what a copper was doin' at a funeral for a literature professor and all that.

You didn't do Lit at the University, and not get taught by him. It was pretty damned impossible. Word of his death felt like lightnin' cleavin' a clear blue sky, with the world split forever after. 

I was in awe of him, of course. You didn't do Lit, and not be on the receivin' end of that knife-sharp wit, time and again. Made those fancy, obscure things seem clear as day, when he talked you through 'em.

Could ask why I picked that class. Most people ain't joinin' the Constabulary through the University, and them as do, you gotta bunch in Criminology, Politics, all them useful stuff.

Me though? Guess you could say I was a dreamer, and I drifted through his classes and I liked the way he talked so I went down to the registrar and told 'em to sign me up for more. So that's what I did.

I didn't belong here though, in my shabby black suit, as those poets and playwrights talked on and on. But I was here because he taught me, and I guess you could say he was the first person to give a damn about me, and maybe that mattered. Maybe that was why I kept comin' back, 'til he got fed-up and told me to go on and live my life and stop lookin' back.

God, look at me now, bein' all maudlin and stuff. Boss would've had cats. Weizel was never one for this sorta thing. Guess he and the prof woulda got on like a house on fire: prof never had any time of day for what he termed 'sentimental instant-vomit.'

But I had a job to do, didn't I?

So I went to the funeral, and then I left, and maybe I had the funeral in my heart, and imagined the dirt on the coffin, and all those crap we tell ourselves when we let ourselves get attached even when we shouldn't. We'd said goodbye years ago, really, and of all of 'em there, I had the least claim to grief.

I was a copper now. Had to keep lookin' forward.

Had to get movin' and find the Octet.

So I pushed past the gate of the University, and took the long, slow road back to the Eighth Octant, where I could walk and think alone in the quiet.

Edited by Kasimir
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1 hour ago, Amanuensis said:

At work rn but very excited 😊 hi Alv!

Greetings Aman.  It's been a while since we've played together.

58 minutes ago, Aeoryi said:

Alvron?

The one and only.  Any stories you may have heard about me are true. :P  And the stories you haven't heard about me are also true.

17 minutes ago, Amanuensis said:

The man, the myth, and the legend o7

'Tis hard being a legend in ones own time.  Hopefully the rust is only skin deep.

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6 minutes ago, neil the beguiled said:

wait alvron is a real person help- i thought that was a meme or soemthing >.>

edit: free read: neil/alvron not e/e

Alvron is the fabled god of luck and chance

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Marshal Drake sighs as he sets a single sheet of paper on the floor. This one doesn't belong in any of the other paper stacks, which have already utterly taken over the desk he sits behind, the desk across from him which belongs to Mendwel who's on holiday, and too much of the floor space in between. All arranged in neat sheafs, not that it makes it look any less like the office was ground zero in an ettmetal detonation.

The Eigth Octant's files are a sheer mess. It's a struggle to rationalize, to say it probably isn't malicious obfuscation. It really probably isn't. As far as he knows, all the information that ought to be kept here is there, it's just... Scattered and alloyed and folded beyond recognition in a heap of other nonsense. At the end of the day, most constables rightly prioritize stopping the bad guys over sorting through their filing cabinets. It only becomes a problem when the bad guys aren't getting caught. When it starts to look like there's corruption on the inside. Then you follow the paper trails. Then you scrutinize every detail for discrepancies.

This could take a while.

The marshal leans back, loosening the loudly floral tie around his neck and unbuttoning his collar. His chair creaks under his weight. They don't really build them with Koloss-blooded folks in mind. He reaches for the cup of coffee nestled carefully between stacks of paper on his desk, which is warm but not properly hot anymore. He shakes his head ruefully. Well, it was only getting colder and more disappointing from here on out. He tips the cup back and downs it in a few gulps.

He hears footsteps.

"Don't touch anything," he reflexively growls. It may look like a tornado in here but by the Survivor's spear it's his tornado.

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1 hour ago, neil the beguiled said:

wait alvron is a real person help- i thought that was a meme or soemthing >.>

Close.  I'm not actually real.  I'm the physical manifestation of scary stories older SEers tell the youngins around a campfire to frighten them and only emerge when I need to claim a fresh soul for sustenance.

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Secretary-Constable Vivienne Bell let out a yawn as she retrieved the last report of the night from her review basket. It was a crack in her otherwise controlled façade, but she forgave herself the indulgence given the unusual stress of the day; after all, she had reviewed the debrief reports for Operation Lightsout that morning. Hopefully this next report would help take her mind off of that disaster. 

Observation Report 01, she read. Subject: Murmuration. Adjusting her spectacles, Vivienne made her way through the document, cross-referencing it with other reports on the subject, as necessary. Being a preliminary report, it did not take her long to finish doing so. Still, she hesitated, her fountain pen hovering briefly over the page, before signing off on the report.

Most of the other constables thought Vivienne took her job too seriously. Even the ones that saw past her severe presentation - crisply ironed blouse and skirt, copper hair in a tight bun, speech always professional, always measured - were fond of telling her to relax. 

You'll work yourself to death, Agent Rhimes had scolded her once. Let your aides review some of the bigger reports. Rust and Ruin, it's only paperwork, Vivi.

Still, as long as her colleagues dismissed the work she did, they would not suspect that she had a secondary task as Secretary-Constable. A highly trained detective, Vivienne did not simply review the reports sent in by field agents; she reviewed the field agents themselves.

Vivienne shivered as she filed away the observation report to the proper folder. Corruption was always an issue among the Elendel Constabulary, but after the confirmation that an undercover member of the Octet was present in her Octant, she would need to remain on full alert.

With that in mind, Vivienne left a note on her desk for one of her aides to run a backround check on that recent transfer from Wyllion. 

Just in case.

Alvron

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as secretary to the Constable-General, roy sat at the back of the octants filing room. every piece of paperwork that went through the entire octant was recorded right here in this room. roy was slightly suspicious that there was some corruption hidden just below the surface of the stacks upon stacks of paperwork. reports upon reports filled his view as he sorted through them looking for any and all connections. he found one that many other reports kept on referencing. Observation Report 1 - Murmuration. why an observation report on birds would keep coming back. the paper trail was wearing thin. he would get to the bottom of everything that was happening. he would purge the corruption

faerie braids

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